Ivy is drunk as fuck. She decides to get up and stumble out of the bar she's in and just try to head wherever really. Fuck it. She finds herself on a street with loud music, bright lights, and lots. of people. It's a mess, really, a sensory overload for someone as drunk as her. The overload makes her a bit nauseous, so she decides to look for a quieter place. A little way down the street there seems to be some emptier areas outside buildings. She tries to head to one of those emptier areas, trying to not bump into anyone. There's a large empty lot that's seemingly been abandoned, vines growing over any objects left there.
Ivy stumbled into the lot and falls to the ground. She's sobbing lightly, but at the same time she's weirdly euphoric. A warm breeze flows past as it begins to rain softly. She stays down, letting the raindrops hit her. She feels crazy. She gets up. Still woozy. It hurts but at least it doesn't feel that bad yet. She'll cry about it later. She decides to walk to another area. She should stay around some people. She ends up in some woods where a lighter party is being thrown, but it's still a party nontheless. The smell of alcohol stains the air as music is heard. She walks up to the party, fuck it, why not? Might as well have some fun. Drown out the pain. She's still pretty drunk. There's maybe 15-20 people, objectheads like Ivy, just hanging out, doing drugs, drinking. Listening to music. There's a fire. Doesn't seem very organized.
Ivy stumbles her way through, waving at everyone. "M-Mind if I join?" They don't seem to mind, only one giving any form of answer with a vague gesture that mostly implies to join. She grabs a drink and sits near the fire. Just looking at it. It doesn't seem to smoke at all. Something about the fire seems warmer than normal fire. She puts her hand out to try not only to feel how hot it is but to just feel something. Putting her hand near the fire brings a strong feeling of comfort. She feels as though something's wrapped around her, but nothings there. It feels nice. She pulls it back out and drinks a bit. She's comfortable. She knows it won't last. For all she knows the real hell is gonna be back home. She wants to enjoy this moment, so she drinks. Again. And again. Getting higher and higher until that one switch on her brain trips.
Ego death. She flops on her back into the grass and starts to laugh, and cry. This isn't gonna be permanent. She'll probably just die again when she's back. Why should she give a fucking shit? Why should she care? This is just a stupid cycle she can't break out of. She can't do anything. She's the same as she's always been.
And then it clicks again. That realization of repetition. She can break this cycle somehow. At this point though, she realized she won't really change, so... She's going back. Not for her own sake. She knows this will happen again. She's going back for anyone but herself. She's going back to try and actually fucking fix things.
She gets up and runs into the woods, looking for another staircase. As she runs, the woods become thicker, the amount of trees growing, as with their height and density. At some point, she feels as though she has to physically pull herself over some of the roots. She keeps running as best as she can. She needs this. She has a ton of other chances but she's confident on this one. She changes direction to hopefully find a less denser area.